


10 Drabbles at a Time (1/5)

by DrHurtsSoGood



Series: 50 Good Omens Drabbles in 5 parts [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Origin Story, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrHurtsSoGood/pseuds/DrHurtsSoGood
Summary: The first 10 of a total 50 drabbles about these lovely work husbands





	10 Drabbles at a Time (1/5)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Usedtobehmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/gifts).



1\. Complicated

“I thought angels generally performed blessings. You don’t seem like an angel…”  
“What makes you say that?”  
“You’ve got the eyes of a snake.”  
“Yes, well…it’s complicated. Do you want the blessing or not?”

2\. Rivalry

Aziraphale stood at the window with his opera glasses staring across the street.

“Are you going to spend all of breakfast peeping?” Crowley slathered butter and jam on his single piece of toast.

“I’m not ‘peeping.’ I’m gathering information.” Aziraphale perked up, “OH there he is! Little rascal. Right on schedule.”

“Angel, if you’re staring through the blinds at someone who doesn’t know you’re watching, it’s peeping. Why are you so intimated by that little store? There’s three more bookshops within a stone’s throw of yours and you never cared before.” Crowley sunk his teeth into the toast and chewed, enjoying Aziraphale’s very human reaction to competition.

“It’s not that it’s just a book store.” Aziraphale lowered his glasses, “It’s that it’s called The Divine Word. If anyone’s word is more divine, it’s mine. And they’ve been putting up stupid angel puns on their sandwich board trying to get more customers. They’re just awful. AH here he comes. Another blasphemous pun is in the making.”

Crowley sauntered to Aziraphale’s side and without removing the strap from around the angel’s neck, peered through the opera glasses. Aziraphale was brought close enough to the demon to smell his aftershave. He rolled his eyes.

“‘And the Lord did speaketh unto you ‘buy the new Stephen King’? That’s not even a pun.”

Aziraphale shuddered. “It’s just horrible.”

3\. Unbreakable

“They say UNBREAKABLE!” Aziraphale launched another plate toward the brick wall, and it shattered. His waistcoat was undone and his bow tie had been ripped clean off. He was an unhinged mess of platinum blonde curls and fury. “well they’re not unbreakable! I will prove it if I have to break every single one in existence!”

Another half a dozen dinner plates sung through the air to meet similar fates of the bowls and saucers and salad plates. 

There was timid knock at the door that Aziraphale didn’t hear. Crowley poked his head in. “Aziraphale, you in here?”

“NO (smash) I’M (crash) NOT! (shatter)”

“I sensed a disturbance in the force when you didn’t come to lunch, and I thought I’d check up on you. What are you doing?”

“I’m BLOODY SMASHING things!” Aziraphale slung another dish across the room and Crowley flinched. 

“I can see that. Any particular reason this dishware deserves to die?”

“They LIE!”

“Fair enough. Any OTHER reason?” Crowley entered the room and stood not too far from the angel as he retrieved another plate.

“Well, YES if you MUST know! Dammit all to hell. Just dammit.” Aziraphale appeared to be slowing down the torrent of ceramic destruction. “They want to excommunicate me, Crowley. They want to banish me.” He voice sunk. The despair crept in as the floodgates opened.

“They’ll take away my name. They’ll drop me off the precipice, and I’ll be falling and burning for a year and a day. They want to banish me from…from HER. Sever my divine connection. I can’t imagine who I would be without…without.”

Crowley grasped his friend tightly and hugged him, “They won’t. They can’t.” He leaned back and held the angel’s face in his hands. “You’ll be alright."

“Crowley, I’m…frightened. Terrified even.” Aziraphale’s face began to swim in tears. “How will I live?”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his embrace more tenderly this time. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

Aziraphale sobbed.

4\. Running

“Don’t look back!” Crowley shouted as the hailstorm of fireballs the size of small cars drove into the ground like meteors.

“I can’t keep up!” Aziraphale was not used to running. The ground was splitting under him. He shrieked.

Crowley grabbed his hand. “You can’t give up now. We’re nearly there!” He tugged the angel roughly along the broken asphalt. He was racing for the car. If only they could get there. If only it was still working when they got there. It had to be if he wanted it badly enough.

“Crowley, if we don’t get out of this alive—“

“Don’t start with me, Angel. I seriously cannot have you start that shit right now.”

Another huge boulder of ice and fire hit two feet away and shot them both five feet into the air.

5\. Judgment

“You are henceforth banished from Heaven for your crimes against the Almighty. You will fall to Earth and below and be condemned there for all eternity, never to return. You will watch over the damned of Earth and dwell in fire. You will be stripped of your name and Godly title.”

The now unnamed Fallen stood at the edge of Heaven and glanced downward over the precipice. The Earth was so far away.

“You will fall for a year and a day and burn the whole way down but not die. Then you will begin your life as a Fallen. What say you?”

The unnamed Fallen’s red hair glistened in the last light of Heaven he would ever know. He took a good look around and chose his words carefully.

“I say Heaven is going to be a lot more boring pretty soon.” And he stepped backwards off the ledge before they could push him. 

6\. Fork in the road

The two of them stared at each other. This was it. This was the last time they could call themselves friends before it became something more. 

“Angel,” Crowley touched Aziraphale’s cheek with as much tenderness as he said the word, “if you have any doubts—“

“I don’t doubt.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer. “I have faith that this will be exactly what we need.”

7\. Start

“Start! Start! I can’t believe it won’t START!” Crowley tried over and over to get the engine to turn. It stubbornly churned and churned again so very nearly working, but then failing to comply. A string of unseemly words shot out of Crowley as he slammed his hands into the steering wheel several times. 

Aziraphale flinched. “Don’t worry. It was just a jaunt in the country. We can go some other time.”

“NO WE BLOODY WELL CAN’T.” Crowley screamed. Suddenly deflating, Crowley laid his head back against the seat.

“And why not?” Aziraphale wrung his hands a little, “I do hate seeing you so upset. Please don’t be angry.”

Crowley gritted his teeth close to breaking. “So much wasted effort. I was so close.”

“Close to what?”

Crowley got out of the car and slowly, reluctantly walked to the boot and opened it. “Go on and look.”

Aziraphale approached and gazed inside. “Oh my word. Is this? Is this original 1811 Napoleon Grand Cognac?”

“Yes.”

“And roast duck with orange in pastry?”

“Yes.”

“And chocolate truffles from that little french place I’ve always loved?”

“Raspberry lavender and the lime sage. Yes.”

“And are we meant to be headed towards—“

“Yes.” Crowley sagged. 

“Oh, Crowley. You’ve perfectly recreated our first date.” 

“Not quite so perfectly.” He grumbled. 

Aziraphale kissed the demon fully and with complete abandon. “You’re so—“

“Don’t say ‘good’.” Crowley eyed the angel who stammered and then recovered.

“—good to me.” 

8\. Umbrella  
“Isn’t it a lovely little invention?” Crowley was very proud. He grinned from ear to ear. “Go on, try it.”

Aziraphale looked askance at his friend. “I don’t like when you’re so gleeful. It means you’ve done something…demonic. Like time you told Attila the Hun he should get out more.”

“This is so much better. Go ahead. Try it.” Crowley’s excitement was the opposite of contagious. 

Aziraphale tried the umbrella. He pushed the small internal piece upward and it clicked into place. The umbrella unfolded brilliantly. “OH my word. That is fantastic.” Aziraphale twirled it. “You don’t even have to hold it in place. It just collapses whenever you don’t need it?”

“Absolutely. Just push that little pin, and it’ll fold.”

Aziraphale was so enthusiastic that when he did push the pin, the apparatus slipped down quickly and quite painfully pinched the skin on his other hand.

“OUCH! CROWLEY!”

Crowley howled. “Smarts, doesn’t it?! it’ll do that EVERY time you’re not paying attention. I’m so brilliant.”

9\. Falling  
Aziraphale was falling. It was his punishment. It wasn’t so bad at first. The free fall was almost pleasant. Like flying. He thought to unfold his wings but that was a mistake. The faster the wind became, the more it started to burn. His wings were forced back behind him whipped and broken. The wind continued to rip him apart - feathers and skin and hair tearing. He couldn’t see. His eyes were full of tears and rushing air and pain. He couldn’t catch enough breath to scream. All he could hear was his own manic heartbeat and the wind. 

The burning increased. He smelled smoke. He was catching fire falling to Earth. Wings and clothes and everything was smoking. Smoldering. He was burning. 

Aziraphale woke suddenly. Sweat on his frightened brow. He touched his face. It was all still there. He reached out with his mind. Wings - though hidden - we’re still there and intact. 

A warm hand snakes around his shoulder. 

“It’s alright,” Crowley said groggily, “It wasn’t real. Just lie down.”

Aziraphale breathed slowly and deeply. Crowley held him in the glow of the morning, and together they once again slept. 

10\. Audience.  
“I wish to seek an audience with the Almighty God!” Crowley shouted into the howling winds and fierce storm that stood before him. The clouds were a menacing grey black with cracks of lightning a color no human eye could see without going mad. 

The sky howled back at him. A taunting, maniacal chuckle of thunder and threat. Keeping him from the Gates of Heaven. 

A figure began to materialize out of the tempest and levitated towards him. 

“Gabriel.” Crowley acknowledged the angel. His brow furrowed. “Why are you here?”

“The Almighty doesn’t talk to the Fallen.” Gabriel touched ground not too far away. He was wearing his angelic armor. He was prepared to fight. Good thing Crowley was too. 

“I want Aziraphale. That’s all.”

Gabriel smiled in that sneaky, horrible way that twisted his ken doll-like features into a caricature of the face of goodness and righteousness. 

“Well, he’s not available. We aren’t going to let him get out of his divine punishment a second time.” He scoffed, “just because you ASKED.”

“Oh I’m done asking.” Crowley’s smile was one to rival the maddest of lunatics. He was about to charge the Gates of Heaven - challenge Gabriel, The Most High, Holy, and Great One to a fight. But he had one trick. 

From out of the nothingness between worlds, Crowley opened a tiny pocket from his own pocket, and produced the most unassuming weapon. 

Gabriel laughed, “That’s your sword? I’m going to really enjoy kicking your ass.” Gabriel unsheathed his sword. 

“Not my sword.” Crowley brandished the sword and it flashed with divine fire. His fingers tingled dangerously but he didn’t explode or melt or get eaten by God sharks. These were all possible. Except for the God sharks. “Aziraphale’s sword.”

The look on Gabriel’s crestfallen face was beyond priceless. It was exactly the price of an Angel’s soul.


End file.
